


silent screaming

by blackmaskfucker (beherrscht)



Series: you've changed my heart, now deal with the consequences [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: (akira hears goro suck off a mob), (it's constantly counteracted by akira), Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disturbing Themes, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mind Break, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Prostitution, Riding, Self-Esteem Issues, Slut Shaming, Suicide Notes, Victim Blaming, but like goro at himself, the shuake is very vanilla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24790489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beherrscht/pseuds/blackmaskfucker
Summary: It's just one phone call.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Other(s), Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: you've changed my heart, now deal with the consequences [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746571
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97





	silent screaming

**Author's Note:**

> makes more sense if you read one of the two of the first one. ideally the first one because that one and this one are both in akira's pov 
> 
> please THOROUGHLY READ THROUGH THE TAGS!!! very very dead dove and creepy themes here, read @ ur own caution and pls immediately stop if u feel disturbed!!! this one isn't that bad as the last one and it's mostly shuake, but the mobgoro phone call and the fact that goro is acting like it's fine that his father is practically pushing into prostitution (and defending him for such behavior) is still there! akira argues that it's unforgivable and unacceptable that someone is doing that to him though .

Akira's been sitting on his bed for the past thirty minutes.

The bed is littered with his clothes, some papers and other gadgets. Morgana has long fled out to the streets of Yongen-Jaga to give Akira his own moment to _deal with what he had to_ when he saw Sae sitting on the counter, a hot cup of espresso almost emptied and dark circles penetrating past her thick makeup, obvious exhaustion that isn't masked even after layers and layers of foundation.

_"Akechi won't say anything to us,"_ she had said. _"No matter who I send in. Even if I myself go in there to talk with him. He sat in the interrogation room dead-eyed and completely unresponsive. We can't elicit any sort of emotion from him, even a sign that he's listening. You have to talk to him. You're the only one he'll speak to."_

Akira has been sitting on his bed ever since that conversation.

The phone is in his right hand, the card with the number is on the other. It's simple—all he has to do is tap out the ten digit number into his phone and press the green button. Akechi will answer, they have to talk, Akira has to carefully extract whoever is enforcing his silence, his _new lifestyle_.

It's simple. Even a child could do it, but Akira can't. Akira couldn't even look at the card for a week straight after Akechi had scratched his number on them due to the guilt that crushed his heart, and a week after that had been spent with Akira flicking his gaze towards it remorsefully, fingers outlining the curling edges of the paper and trying to bring back the courage to dial the number.

To the boy who _he_ broke.

Sae has tried to remove the weight off his shoulders, but they haven't worked: no matter how much talk about how there was just no way that Akira could have _possibly_ known that Akechi came from such a broken family and tragic circumstances, that Akechi's desire to become a righteous detective and to get his revenge on the society that wronged him was a life support keeping his corpse animated. Yet Akira should have known better. He's been warned them, by the shadow brothers and Morgana all those months ago; that changing someone's heart is breaking them, destroying them.

Human beings need desire to live, Akechi even more than all of them, under the sheer hopelessness of his upbringing. Yet Akira never even voiced the question of _why_ Akechi became this way, so distorted in corrupt desires, too much in a hurry to change Akechi's heart and to get his terrifying threats off his shoulders. How could he have possibly missed that Akechi hadn't merely an evil conspirator, but a broken victim like all of them?

The treasure the shadows had protected so valiantly had been a toy model gun wrapped in paper. A cheap knockoff of the Featherman series, but obviously used so much that the paint had been chipped off, suggesting the horrible life Akechi must have led as a child. At the very beginning, they've thought the toy must've been his only treasure, odd considering he had two shadows, up until Akira had pieced back the paper wrapping the toy gun.

It's been his mother's suicide note.

Akira thumbs his phone's power button again as the screen turns dark for the fifth time, and sighs. The time is passing, the sun threatening to set through the curtains, so he swallows the regret spinning in his guts to press down the numbers.

_"If you feel horrible, find the man responsible behind this, Kurusu. Whoever has silenced Akechi's confession, is now using him for their own gain. You can't turn back the past, but you can set something right."_

Sae reminds Akira of Akechi, although it's more likely that Akechi picked up her mannerisms because he looked up to her. He couldn't possibly say no to her. He thinks it's what Akechi—the one he befriended, the one who played chess with him, the one who Akira _fell in love with_ —would say to him if he saw his predicament now.

He presses the call button. The dial echoes in his ears for minutes, until the call finally connects.

"Hello?" Akira asks gently. "Akechi, I need to talk to you about something."

Instead of a reply, rough, stilted breathing echoes from the other side of the line. It's very faraway, and Akira draws his eyebrows together as brings his phone back into sight to flick his gaze across the luminescent screen. He definitely called the right number. "Akechi?"

In reply, Akira hears shuffling and a hiss. Not knowing anything to do, he's about to touch the end call button when he hears the distinct sound of squelching. The breathing becomes louder along with it, as if the phone's been brought closer to the sound source.

_"Fuck,"_ a low voice that is distinctly not Akechi's tumbles from the machine, and Akira freezes. _"Fuck, you're so good at this."_

A guttural moan is offered in reply, along with high whining. It's muffled, like there's something shoved in their mouth. _His_ mouth. Akechi's.

_"Taking cock like you're made for it."_ The other man groans, volume rising towards the end of the sentence, and the squeaking turns hurried with the passed time. Akechi's muted sighs turn into choked cries as the man turns rougher and rougher. _"Fucking whore..."_

Akira should cut the call. Akechi obviously clicked the accept button by accident. Yet he's frozen in the spot, hearing Akechi deepthroat this faceless man, remembering how Akechi had looked on his knees all those weeks ago, rubbing his cheek to his length feverishly taking him to his mouth...

He hears Akechi choke on the other side. His mind traitorously returns to the CCTV footage, and he lets out a shaky breath, trying to control himself.

"'kira," Akechi moans before Akira snaps out of his haze. His voice has gone hoarse from the activity he's been indulging before, and Akira can make out the barest sound of footsteps fading away to a distance. "S'ry that you had to hear that. Sorry. Sorry."

Akira hasn't heard Akechi apologize for _anything_ before his change of heart. It's disturbing. "It's okay," because what else can he possibly say? "I'm just calling because..."

"You want me to come over?" Akechi begs, because the way his voice squeaks up and he moans has to constitute as begging.

Akira freezes, and his half-hard dick twitches in interest. "Akechi, I..."

"Akira, _please_ ," this time he is begging, by every sense of the word. "It's been so long since I've seen you. Let me come over."

"Alright," Akira mumbles out helplessly. It's probably better to talk to Akechi in person—despite the change of heart killing any emotion within him both negative and positive, if Akechi was hellbent on not telling whoever was pulling on his strings to Sae, he may even lie to _Akira_. If that is the case, he'd rather have Akechi face-to-face so he can figure him out. 

* * *

Akira thinks Akechi hasn't earned anything with the heartchange, at least nothing that hadn't been there in him intrinsically. Even the new habit and work he has seems to be based on experience, nobody gets that good at sex, that good at taking a dick in your mouth without practice. It's the sheer _lack_ of something that is telling about this version of Akechi, the one Akira has unfortunately brought to this world. The lack of the leather gloves. The lack of ambition. The lack of the light in his eyes, the fury against the world nowhere to be found, not even the ember remaining. Completely extinguished, sprayed over by water. A pretty doll. Soulless. 

Dead. 

To Akechi, his rage was like air he needed to breathe. And Akira, without knowing the story, has taken them away—torn it out of his very heart when he resisted. He's wrapped a perfect noose around Akechi's neck and pulled, saying that breathing _wasn't_ a necessity.

It's amazing how little you see of the things you are shown. It all blurs into the background unless you _try_ to see. Just how much you take for granted that you don't notice until it is ripped from your very grasp. Like how Akira hasn't noticed how Akechi's primal hunger for revenge was like a pair of fins on a shark, how without them all Akechi could do is bleed out and lure the other predators around—until the very moment Akira executed his soul.

"What are you thinking about, Akira-kun?"

"Nothing you'd understand."

The Akechi sprawled across his lap and lazily playing with his own hair doesn't seem _anything_ like Akechi. The general color scheme may be right, but everything else is horrendously, sickeningly _wrong_. Akechi always held himself stoically—the controlled and repressed detective prince who couldn't even tolerate a single facial muscle acting out without permission because every conversation was a battlefield and every reaction was ammunition. He's _never_ seen Akechi without his shoulders drawn together: Akira thinks it could have been because Akechi assumed his identity, but according to what he saw in that twisted palace, it seems more likely that he simply never put his guard down, _ever_. Meanwhile, the brunette happily rubbing his cheek against the inner fabric of Akira's thighs is languid and loose, without even a single shred of tension to be found. _Content_.

Akechi could never be content. He was like Akira—he always strove for something better and higher. He could never be happy, because people like them never could be happy as they were.

"Hey... Akechi," Akira swallows the bile that threatens to rise, "do you mind if I call you Goro?"

Because it's just so wrong to call this _doll_ Akechi. He thinks if Akechi was _actually_ here, all rage and fury, he would be offended enough to deck him across the face. But Akira doesn't want to refer to him with something different, lest he forgets that this _isn't_ Akechi, that this is what he did.

"Mm-hmm," he hums, eyes unfocused. "I'd like that. Thought about you calling me that sometimes..."

His heart jumps. "Really?"

"Yeah. Thought about a lotta things..." Goro trails off, voice light and carefree. "Like how pretty you are. Especially your eyes."

It's like staring into a dead creature's incised stomach, that's what being around Goro is like—all gory and horrific, but horribly, brutally honest. Goro, no longer chained by the shackles of the past, has nothing to lose; nothing he must do. Meanwhile, burdened with his life's mission, Akechi couldn't have said any of these things to him.

"And how much I love you."

Especially that.

"I..." Akira sighs in resignation, "I had a feeling it may be that."

Akira has had a few schoolgirl crushes on him—although Akechi argued that he only looked ordinary at most, in his small hometown he's still been one of the best-looking around—and although Akechi could never be compared to the squealing girls whispering just loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to be comprehended, Akira still noticed the signs. The way how Akechi's body loosened around him, how his pupils dilated. How he smiled more, how he made up excuses to stay around Leblanc. He had an assumption, although it was a pretty strong one. He merely never acted upon his words because.

Goro perks up at his words. "Really? I never knew. Why didn't you say anything?"

The smile that comes from him is bitter. Because. "You wouldn't have said yes. You would have vehemently denied it because you couldn't accept that you had feelings for me. It would have ruined all of your plans instantly."

"My plans..." Goro's voice takes a drowsier tint until it's almost a slur. "They don't matter. They've never mattered in the end. I've just been too prideful to see."

_They weren't_ , Akira wants to scream. _They made you who you were._

"That doesn't matter. If you called, that means you want to use me? What position would you like me to accommodate? I'm quite flexible, you can bend me in half without worrying about hurting me, even beat me for stress relief." Goro's words are chipper despite the ugly words he's saying. "I

"That's not what I called you here for, and aren't you already tired?" Akira squeaks as Goro presses his head down on Akira's clothed half-hard cock.

"Today's been a slow day," Goro hums contently, "it's like that on Wednesdays, I've only serviced a few men with my mouth. I'm all available for you to use."

That's... Akira doesn't know how to answer that, like he doesn't know how to reply to most of what Goro says. Goro doesn't seem to care about a lack of reply to his statement, because he's busy wiggling out of his sweatpants. He isn't wearing anything under.

"You can do whatever you want," Akira says, voice strained as Goro hungrily goes for his belt, swiftly undoing the buckles and pulling out his half-hard cock reminiscent to how he had done a few weeks ago.

"Really?" Goro's eyes are shining.

Akira nods, and that's all Goro needs to slam his mouth down Akira's cock, but it's different from how he sucked off last time, languid and sloppy over his dick—he's pistoning Akira's dick in and out of his throat skillfully, all the way to the bottom and back, coating his cock with saliva.

He's throbbing hard by the time Goro is finished and there's a thick mix of saliva and precome smeared all over Akira's cock, a trail of silver connected to the reddened lips. "Gonna take care of you," Goro whispers as he brings down the flat of his tongue across Akira's head to taste the precome at the center. Apparently satisfied with his work he rises from the floor and rubs Akira's cock between his cheeks.

Akira's stayed silent most of the way, letting Goro lead in the pace he's comfortable in, but he can't hold down a moan as his cockhead enters Goro's ridiculously tight ass, the walls clenching down on him. Goro moans alongside him to the feeling of a shaft penetrating him and splitting him open, and starts to move, rocking forward and backwards on Akira's cock, chasing his pleasure. All Akira can do is just lie there uselessly, stare breathlessly at the sight of Goro's brows drawn together in concentration as he fucks himself intently.

"Akira..." Goro mewls as he bounces desperately, each pull out earning a hasty breath in from the two of them and press earning a hungry groan, "you feel amazing... Like I've been made to fit around your cock..."

Fuck, Goro can't say something like _that_ and expect him to be unaffected—although Goro clearly wants Akira to be a more active participant from what he's slurring as he gets closer and closer to orgasm. Akira clenches his eyes hard and smashes his hips up to meet Goro's downward thrust, his cock dipping far deeper into Akechi's body.

It doesn't take Goro to come long on Akira's cock, him coming all over their stomachs when Akira starts to fuck up to him earnestly, completely soaking Akira's shirt with thick ejaculate. And even when Goro's exhausted and content, Akira continues to use him like a cocksleeve, the tight heat that still hungrily clings to his cock every time he pulls out, hungry to be filled despite Goro already having come. Now that Goro's movements have stopped, only his own need to come driving him forward, rhythm breaking the one Goro has established before to adapt a more erratic staccato press of the hips. He bites forward to mark Goro in the shoulder, swallowing the storm that wreaks through him upon seeing the countless other bruises, and goes as deep as he can reach, completely exhausting himself in the tight cavern.

Fuck. Akira rubs his eyes when he finally comes back to his senses, realizing that he didn't get to ask his question. Thankfully, Goro seems to be reduced to a pliable and obedient state, rubbing his tinted cheeks against Akira's chest like a kitten.

"Goro, I need to ask you a question," Akira nudges gently, trying to pull out.

"Mmph," Goro merely shakes his head, pressing his hips downwards so they can stay interconnected longer. Akira feels his come cream out around his cock.

"Goro, I'm serious," he immediately brings themselves upwards, forcing Goro to meet him in the eyes. The drowsy, unfocused eyes soon regain some of its focus, albeit reluctantly. "I need to ask you something."

"You're here to ask me about who is making me do this," Goro's gaze narrows, and Akira sees a phantom of Akechi standing in his place—brutally reminded that Goro and Akechi are still carved out from the same cloth. "I'll tell you what I've told Sae-san, I'm doing this of my own will. Why can't you _understand_ that this is all I'm good for?"

_Because it's not. Because this is my fault, I've crushed your foundations without knowing what I was doing. I should have known that taking away your desires would do this to you, I should have cared, but I've been too blind and you're completely gone because of my neglect._ "He's manipulating and using you," Akira hisses frantically. Goro, obviously no longer in the mood, pulls out and begins to suck away the come covering them as Akira frustratingly rubs his forehead.

"How can it be manipulation when it was consensual?" Goro grumbles as he retrieves the sweatpants he's thrown elsewise for better mobility, pulling it up to cover himself without bothering to clean himself up.

"You were in a vulnerable state from having your heart changed," _the state I created,_ "and you were guilt tripped."

"I'm not doing anything I don't want," Goro snaps back indignantly, still stubborn.

_"Why are you so intent on protecting him!?"_ Akira shouts out helplessly, hopelessly.

The expression he receives is equally broken. "Because he's my _father_ , Kurusu."

Before Akira can beg him to elaborate, Goro is already out the door.

* * *

"What do you mean that's not enough!?" Akira shouts into the phone speaker, feeling his hands shake in terror. "Akechi can only have one father at most, it can't be _that_ hard to figure who it is!"

"There is no father on the birth certificate, there isn't anyone who ever sent him child support, he has never mentioned a father figure of whatsoever, not even to _me_. There is no public nor private record of Akechi Goro's father that I can find."

"But _Akechi_ had to figure out somehow," Akira argues fervently. "It has to exist somewhere."

"It's most likely that he heard it from his mother, Kurusu," Sae snaps. "I know you're frustrated, but letting out that out on me is not helping."

_Heard it from his mother..._

Akira feels his heart stop.

_The suicide note._

"Wait a second," Akira barely lets out before dropping the phone on the bed and rushing towards his boxes to retrieve the item he's gotten from Akechi's palace. He's never felt right reading the whole thing, stopped around the time he realized who it's been written by and _why_ , but if he can use this to help Goro—

He skims through the entire thing within minutes, cataloging names, trying not to think about the content. It's hard, reading about her write about how horrible everything has gotten for her and how she couldn't do anything but take her only way out, and can't possibly imagine what this must have done to young Goro's psyche. He swallows down all the acid and finishes, finally learning the name and immediately launching himself back to the phone. "It's Masayoshi Shido," he tells Sae in a rushed huff, _why is that name so familiar?_ "You think that's enough?"

_"Masayoshi Shido?"_ Sae replies confusedly, "how did you—that's one hell of an accusation you're making, Kurusu Akira."

This came right from Akechi's heart. It _has_ to be correct. "Why? Is he popular? I know I'm right, b-because I got this right from Akechi's palace."

Sae falls silent for a long while, then sighs. "Masayoshi Shido is the man running for Prime Minister, Kurusu. The bald one who keeps appearing on television? You must know him, with how much everyone talks about him."

Oh.

_Oh._

"He's the one who framed me," Akira says to the microphone. "He's the reason why I'm in Tokyo..."

"If you're so sure, I'll try to compile Akechi's past cases and try to see if I can make a connection," Sae retorts, but not unkindly. "If Akechi was working for _Shido_... Well, that makes sense why nobody could make a connection. Could you try to get a name from Akechi anyways? It'd be the surefire evidence we need."

"Yeah, I'll try," Akira mumbles, knowing that he won't be able to. "Thank you for this, Sae-san."

"Take care of yourself," Sae murmurs, the concern evident in the voice, then cuts the call.

* * *

He gets a hit on the Nav when he types Shido's name.

"Well," Akira says to the empty Leblanc attic, "I guess we have our next target."

**Author's Note:**

> we live in a society
> 
> i'm half done with break chain ch10 too if anyone's keeping up w that? but right now i got a plant exam in 3 days and i'm too depraved to write that rn
> 
> anyways horny acct @blackmaskfucker


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